Chapter 1 #10
I groan into my hand. "He's…unbelievably hot. It's almost unfair. Stupidly hot. He's the definition of beauty, actually."
"Oh my God…" Noah sounds like he's fanning himself. "I KNEW IT. And? Is he better than Sophia?"
That makes me stop. "What?"
"You heard me. Is he better than Sophia?" I stare at the window, stunned. "I forgot Sophia existed until you just said her name." And I mean it.
Noah lets out a scandalized shriek. "Rava, I'm gonna cry. Wait. Does that mean…? Are you…?"
"Well I think I'm bi." It feels strange saying it out loud. "Or something. I don't know. And it's not just that. I—fuck, I think I'm actually in love with him. And it's making me sick."
"RAVAAAAA." He sounds like he's about to jump out of his skin. "Holy shit! I am so proud of you. This is, like, the moment. Do you hear me? THE MOMENT. I have to break something, this is so unexpected."
I laugh. "You're so dramatic."
"Bitch, you're the one in a secret romance with a tattooed Italian bad boy. I earned the right to scream."
"You sound like Lorenzo."
"Is he your other affair or something?"
"Gio's cousin. You'd love him. Same brain. It's actually disturbing. You'd probably become best friends in two minutes and then ruin my life."
"I already love him. Tell him I said hi. And also thank you for not letting Gio be a complete menace. Okay, wait—tell me everything. Like, what's he like? What do you do? How did it start? What's the vibe?"
So I tell him. Everything. From that first kiss in Spain to the stolen glances, all that fucking, the whispered conversations.
The key to his house. The way Gio looks at me. The way I feel safe and alive and terrified all at once. "But I don't know what happens when I leave," I admit, quieter now.
"We made this agreement—if someone falls, we stop. But fuck me, I already did. And I'm scared if he finds out, he'll back off before I even get on the plane. Like he'll just... disappear. Before I can even ask him to stay with me."
Noah is quiet for a second.
"Rava... you deserve to love someone who wants to stay. And from everything you just told me? He sounds like he fucking does want to stay with you. Maybe he already broke the rules too, and he's just as scared to tell you."
I press my forehead against the cool glass. "What if I mess it up?"
"Then at least you tried. But if you don't say anything, you'll regret it every day after. Just think about what you want. What you really want."
"I want him."
Noah sighs dramatically. "Okay. That's it. I'm flying over. I need to meet this man. I need to see the face of the guy who made you forget that bitch Sophia existed. And also, I want gelato. And Lorenzo. And chaos."
"You're insane."
"I'm your best friend. Same thing."
And I smile. "Wait..." I pause mid-laugh, something lighting up in my chest. "Noah. Hold on. Actually…what if you came?"
There is silence on the line. "Came where?" His tone shifts instantly.
"Here. To Italy. I'm serious."
I'm already picturing it.
Noah strutting off a plane in a hideous airport outfit with a suitcase full of chaos. "You should totally come. It would be legendary."
"Rava..." he whispers. "You're not messing with me, right?" "No, dude, I'm serious! Stay for a week—or two! You'll meet everyone. You can finally see this madness in real life. Lorenzo will lose his mind. You two will end up lighting something on fire, I already know it."
"Oh my GOD." He's breathing heavier, like this is the best idea he's ever heard.
"You don't understand. I've been bored, man.
I'm dying out here. Everyone sucks. I need drama.
I need Italians. I need espresso and forbidden romance.
I need to see Gio the Legend with my own eyes. I need to judge him in person."
"Please do. He needs to be humbled."
"I was born to humble tattooed men."
I grin so hard it hurts.
"You're not joking though? You're actually inviting me?" "I've never been more serious. I miss you like hell. And honestly? I need you here. Even for a little bit."
He's quiet for a second. "Alright. Give me three days. I'll make something up for my work, find a flight, and pack. You better be at the airport with snacks."
"I'll bring an espresso and a t-shirt that says Team Gio is Mid."
"Perfect. And I swear to God, Rava, if you and Gio fight or anything before I get there, I will fight you. I've been emotionally invested since forever. Don't do this to me."
"I'll try not to ruin your gay summer vacation, I promise." He cackles. "Italy's not ready for me."
Three hours later
It is quiet. Late afternoon light spills through the curtains. I have my feet pulled up on the chair, knees to my chest, a pen tapping gently against the side of my glasses.
I've been scrolling for the past hour, looking up programs, requirements, tuition costs. Master's in education. Teaching.
The plan is to graduate officially in October, walk the stage, hold that diploma up high, and then go after it. It was supposed to be simple. Supposed to be about me. Just me. But now…there's him.
Gio.
And the thing is, I can't think straight anymore.
Not when I wake up and the first thing on my mind is whether he's eaten.
Not when I see him riding that damn bike and all I want to do is scream at him to slow down.
Not when I used to hope the cops would catch him for all the shit he pulls, and now I spend whole nights lying awake wondering what lies I'd tell if they ever came asking.
What I'd cover. What I'd burn. What I'd do to keep him safe. Is that pathetic? The guy who used to laugh at me in the hallways, who used to call me "teacher's pet" and mock my books. The same guy I used to curse under my breath…
He's now the one I'd sell my soul to protect. It's terrifying. To care this much.
To love—
I can't even say it. Not even to myself. I let the pen fall into my lap and rub the back of my neck, staring blankly at the screen in front of me.
CLACK.
I jump. My heart stops. I turn toward the window…and it is Gio. Half in, half out.
"Missed me?" he whispers.
8) It Was Fine
Rava
Totally normal to have someone climbing into your fucking room through the window. Who even uses the door anymore?!
That's so outdated.
Here, we do things deluxe edition: window.
Actually, wait. I keep forgetting. They would skin him alive if they found out he is here. We don't even have a project as an excuse, and Jin isn't around either, so I literally have zero reason to explain why there is a whole Gio in my bedroom right now.
"Look at you," he whispers. "Sitting there all sweet and innocent with your little glasses and those filthy tattoos."
I swallow hard. "You're gonna get us caught."
He swings his whole body inside, lands on the floor, dusts off his shirt, and before I can say anything, he leans in and presses a quick kiss to my mouth. He pulls back, eyes flicking over my face, and then he does it again.
Another quick kiss, a little slower this time.
"I was gonna handle some business," he says, stepping closer, "but then I remembered I hadn't had my daily dose of my favorite nerd's mouth yet."
"Gio—"
"No." He presses a finger to my lips, then drags it down, slow, across my chest, which kind of gives me goosebumps. "You don't get to look like that and act like I'm the problem."
"You are the problem."
He smirks. "Then solve me, little genius." I grab his wrist, pulse in my throat. I tug him closer. The room shrinks around us. "You've got two minutes."
He leans in, lips ghosting mine. "I only need one."
He smirks. "But I'm greedy." He pins me to the wall and starts absolutely wrecking my mouth. I'm smiling into the kiss, and he clearly doesn't like that, because his hand comes up to grab my jaw, fingers pressing into my cheeks to hold me still, like saying focus, Weston, I'm busy here.
My hands fly up to his hair, digging into the dark strands, messing them up while I drag him even closer. I swear I can't get enough. It's ridiculous. Maybe he's secretly putting drugs on his tongue or something, because there is no other logical explanation for how addicting this is.
His hands slide down my sides and then lower, squeezing my ass, and my breath stutters against his lips.
"Rava? Are you home?"
Fuck. Footsteps. Getting closer.
My mother.
My blood runs cold. I rip myself away from Gio.
"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck—" We lock eyes. Both of us wide-eyed, frozen. Then I move. Fast. I grab Gio's arm, don't care how hard I pull, and drag him toward the closet.
He stumbles, almost trips over my backpack. I don't stop. "Get in. Get in, now—"
"What—"
"Shut up and get in!" I shove him inside. I don't care if he hits the wall or knocks something over. I don't care if he hates me in this moment. "Don't move. Don't breathe. Don't make a fucking sound."
I slam the door shut.
I turn just as the handle to my room clicks. She is already coming in. My heart tries to escape my chest. The door opens.
"Oh, there you are." My mother walks in.
"Yeah. Yes." My voice cracks. She gives me a look.
I smile. Too much? Too little? Do I look guilty? Shit.
Don't touch your face. Guilty people touch their faces. I drop my hand from my mouth and pretend to look through my drawer. Not the closet. Never the closet. That's a no-go zone now.
Closet equals Gio. Gio equals chaos. Chaos equals grounded until I'm thirty. She's still watching me.
Please don't smell the cologne.
Please don't notice how flushed I am.
Please don't open the closet and find a six-foot-tall Italian man crouched next to my shirts. I can feel Gio's presence like a fucking spotlight behind that closet door.
She walks over to my desk, glances at my laptop.
"Still looking for your Master’s degree?"
I nod. Dying.
She sits on the edge of my bed. "There's something I wanted to talk to you about…"
No. No. Not now. Please not now.
"Okay," I say. I try to sound casual. I scratch at my neck like a lunatic.
"It's about Gio."